


The Regrets of Randle P. McMurphy

by OlivesBadDreams



Category: One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest - Ken Kesey
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Gen, Male Friendship, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Mental Institutions, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Psychological Drama, Psychological Trauma, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-08-10 17:21:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7854169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OlivesBadDreams/pseuds/OlivesBadDreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Does he regret the cause?  Yes.  He feels the boy’s blood is equally on his hands.  Does he regret the result?   No.  The bitch had it coming to her.  Does he regret the conclusion?  Yes.  He’ll never be himself again.  Did it all start as a con?  Yes, and he regrets that the most.</p><p>[[ A fic for the summer One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest exchange. ]]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Don’t You Forget Now, McMurphy

**Author's Note:**

> This is dark stuff, based in canon. I’m not holding back. It’s time to bring canon McMurphy back.
> 
> A few year ago, there was this one user in the One Flew tag who pointed out how disgusting McMurphy’s hypersexualized assault on the Big Nurse was / still is. It’s not something the fandom likes to talk about, or even think about, or even remember. I was a little defensive because of some of their points, but their critique was valid. It’s always stayed with me.
> 
> I do love McMurphy, I truly do. & with that, there comes recognizing ALL of him – the heroic & the, dare I say it, problematic. Don’t forget now, McMurphy – you’ve done some really SHITTY FUCKING THINGS.
> 
> I was inspired by the style of the original canon – a stream of consciousness that’s chronological, yet also a-linear. A stream of the present & the past. A stream of narration, thoughts, & monologues. A mess of a mind swimming in fog. Hopefully it’s not TOO disorienting. Hopefully it’s just… similar to the novel. Again, I wanted this to be as close to canon as possible.

I’ve put up with a hell of a lot here in this nest o’ cuckoos.  I’ve put up with a HELL of a lot.    But she’s gone too far this time.  Too far, too far.

She got no right usin’ Cheswick an’ Billy like that.  She got _no right_ usin’ them like that.  In death, they’re damn defenseless.  Let the dead dogs lie – they’re finally free of ya.  Let ‘em lie at the bottom of a pool, on the floor with some instruments, some scissors.  You got no damn right.

This won’t make a difference.  This ain’t gunna make a difference, but I don’t care.  _I don’t goddamn care anymore._   She ain’t gettin’ away with this.  No more.  No goddamn more.  Not on my watch.  Not in damn front o’ me.

I push her an’ she falls down like any other man I’ve fought.  Neck crashin’ down hard on that floor, bucklin’.  Her eyes sprawled out, wide-eyed.  She’s a doe in headlights now.  I barely recognize her. 

I can’t help but grin.  Cat finally got your tongue, Ratched?  If you’re an angel of mercy, save yourself.  If you’re so all-powerful, then get up off the floor.  Huh?  Are you human, too, Ratched?  Do you only got power in numbers?  Power in pills an’ electroshocks?  Where’s that power now, huh?  Where’s all that power now?

Can you choke, Ratched?  Like Cheswick?  Can you bleed, Ratched?  Like Billy?  If you use their names like that, you gotta get a taste.  You gotta walk around in a dead man’s shoes.  You ought to.  Lemme show ya.  Oh, I’ll show ya.

_Hoowee!_   It’s nice to hear you screamin’ like that.  Are you terrified of this here brute?  Are you afraid of the big bad wolf?  I’ll damn blow you down, alright.  I’ll give you a few blows, you best believe me now.  It’s nice to feel you strugglin’ an’ squirimin’ – just like all the men up on Disturbed.  It’s nice to hear you howlin’ an’ cryin’ – like all them Chronics in the night.  Are you human, too, Ratched?  Hell, are ya crazy, too?

My, my, my.  Me oh my.  My hands must’ve slipped.  You’re spillin’ out all over the place now, ain’t ya?  Lady, you like to play all high an’ mighty.  You like to act all un-a-ttainable.  But if you ain’t a woman, if you ain’t some broad like the rest of ‘em, what am I seein’ in front of my eyes?  These pink ol’ mounds, as pink as my hands?  All squishy soft?  All milky white?

Don’t like that?  Don’t like that?  Alright, alright.  You can stop screamin’ now.  We’ve heard enough.  The men have heard ENOUGH o’ that orange mouth of yours.  But it ain’t lookin’ so orange now.  It’s lookin’ a lil’ blue, a lil’ pale.  Can you breathe, Big Nurse?  Can you give me a big ol’ puff?  No?  Now that’s alright.  _This is an improvement._  

Funny how no one’s comin’ to save ya.  Where’s your power now, Big Nurse?  Where’s your Combine now?  Those black boys ain’t comin’ to save ya.  Those rabbits ain’t comin’ to save ya.  It’s just you an’ me – how it was meant to be. 

_Hoowee._   She turnin’ blue, boys!  She turnin’ blue!  Gentlemen start your engines!  Let’s see how long she –

Tackled outta nowhere.  Finally the rest of ‘em catch up.  They finally wrangle me off her. Pin my arms right behind my back.  Almost expect handcuffs to pop ‘round my wrists.  Almost expect ‘em to read my rights.  Even on this ward, do I got a right to re-main silent?  Do I got any rights at all?  Answer’s no, fellas.  No, no, no.  I didn’t read the fine print.  Consequences of fight over flight.

I try to look over at her, but I can’t make her out.  Try to make eye contact with any of ‘em, but I can’t make ‘em out.  Catch a glimpse of Chief’s arm, one arm, big as a mountain. 

I can’t help but howl.  Don’t know if it’s the pain of bein’ pinned down.  Don’t know if it’s recognition or desperation or intimidation or some combo of the three.  But I howl.  Maybe I’m a wolf after all.

Maybe it’s recognition after all.  It was nice while it lasted, but it’s over.  Maybe it’s desperation.  ‘Cause I could use a miracle right ‘bout now.  An’ maybe it’s intimidation.  ‘Cause it’s over, fellas.  It’s over. 

I ain’t even know what come over me.  Was I po-ssessed by those ghosts, those dead boys?  Naw.  If Ratched can’t use their names in vain, in some selfish a-genda, I can’t either.  Was I possessed by anger?  Just wild with rage?  Maybe.  Maybe, maybe, maybe.  But it’s a lot more than that.  It’s a hell of a lot more than that.

I wanna tell the boys somethin’ to soothe their minds.  Wanna take the edge off.  But for the first time in a long time, cat got my tongue.  My throat’s dry an’ my tongue feels thick in my mouth.  Can’t make a noise ‘sides snortin’ or chokin’. 

They’re a-raisin’ me to my feet now.  Knees almost buckle.  It’s all three of those –ations.  All three. 

It’s over for me, fellas.  It’s over.


	2. You Did This To Yourself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt: McMurphy, preferably solo with introspection & little joy… is literally the best prompt I could have ever received. This is something I’ve always wanted to write, but never had the chance.
> 
> The result: Bromden’s POV is painful thru the last 30 or so pages. What if we had Mack’s?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly “the man who speaks in hands” fits Harding so well. & I’m going to appropriate that Undertale line for ANOTHER Cuckoo fic. I just don’t care. It’s too fitting NOT to. 
> 
> Also this is literally just a darker IT’S OVER, ISN’T IT? ISN’T IT? ISN’T IT OVER? sung by Mack.

I’m bein’ wheeled somewhere.  Think they slipped me a sedative or somethin’.  But when’d they do that?  How long’s it been?  Where am I? 

I look up an’ the ceiling’s different.  Looks like it’s got static clingin’ to it, all grey an’ bumpy.  The lights are blindin’ – bulbs turned up way too bright.  They got this greenish tint to ‘em.  So green I got acid creepin’ up my throat.  So green my stomach’s churnin’, bowels clenchin’.

I can’t move ‘cause of what they gave me.  If I could, I would run.  If I could, I would’ve ran last night. This don’t feel real.  It’s happenin’, but it don’t feel real.  All of it. 

The green hallway’s whoosin’ past me.  Everythin’ startin’ to blur.  _Whoosh.  Whoosh.  Whoosh._   Acid’s creepin’ up my throat an’ a cold sweat’s drippin’ down my neck.  I fucked up.  No way ‘round it.  No way to deny it.  I did this to m’self.  All of it. Down to the damn start of it.  I lied my way to here.  I’ve been a liar all my life.  Maybe this is some sorta cosmic comeuppance for bein’ so connivin’.  For comin’ here on false pre-tenses.  For comin’ here on a con.  I regret that.  I do, I do.

But I couldn’t just stand there watchin’ his blood leak out.  Couldn’t just stand there watchin’ the ward go to hell.  Couldn’t just stand there an’ watch Chief dwindle down into nothin’.  Couldn’t just stand there an’ watch men take abuse like that.  I couldn’t.  Can’t turn the other cheek on that.  Can’t rationalize all that.  I can’t take all that.

The bitch had it comin’ to her.  Had it comin’ to her a long time.  But even I’m surprised at how wild I got.  They still got me restrained on account of how feral I was.  Got me drugged all docile an’ tied down.  Wild dog McMurphy foamin’ at the mouth.  Careful, kids!  Don’t let him bite ya!

How long is this damn hallway anyway?  We been a-rollin’ fer way too long.  Rollin’ to nowhere.  Fer chrissakes, just get it over with!  Knock me out!  Scramble my brains out!  That’s your last card, ain’t it?  Shocks didn’t work, pills neither.  It’s time to cut me open.  Time to silence me fer good.

But I had it comin’, I sure did had it comin’.  Since day one walkin’ on here… she was plottin’ this.  She was just waitin’ for the right opportunity.  Well here it is.  Here it was.  An’ soon there McMurphy was.

Didn’t Dale Dandy go on about the finer specifics of this here surgery?  Say that the frontal lobe or whatever is responsible of the, oh what was it?  The poignant personality of the soul, the very testament of fragility an’ creativity?   Hell’s bells, Harding.  Sometimes I just want you to give it to me straight.  Don’t give me the poetics an’ filigree.  Give me the stats.  Give me my chances.

What **are** my chances, Harding?  Do I got a shot at takin’ her last play?  Do I got a shot at keepin’ this here fragile personality?  Do I got a shot at keepin’ my soul?  Or is that lost?  Lost in that there static in the walls – where the HELL did that come from? 

I mean I got such a STRONG personality, don’t I, Harding?  Oh what would he say?  What would that man with the speakin’ hands say?  With a flick of those dainty wrists would he pontificate that strength in personality means nothing in the scope of a surgeon’s scalpel, my feral friend?  Dale pontificatin’ Harding, bless his soul.

_Whoosh.  Whoosh.  Whoosh._   Still wheelin’.  Maybe time’s just runnin’ slow fer me.  Maybe that sedative did somethin’ additional to my mind, besides paralyzin’ me – dumbin’ me down.  We’re close.  Lights are gettin’ less green an’ more yellow.  The static’s smoothin’ out.  There’s movin’ white blurs in the distance. 

It’s over, ain’t it?  Soon as I cross that there threshold, I ain’t comin’ out.  How do you fight that?  I always gotta buck back.  I always gotta fight somethin’.  I’m a liar, but I’m also a fighter.  Boxin’ against fate.  Give death a knockout punch, buy me some time. 

The wheels screech as we make a turn, sharp left.  Lights go from bright to blindin’.  I close my eyes an’ groan.  Feel a pinch in my arm.  A pinch an’ I’m drownin’.  I try to claw my way back to the surface – back to consciousness.  Wake up, Mack!  My eyes are flutterin’, tryin’ to stay open.  Feel another pinch in my arm.  Feels like my eyelids got anchors attached to ‘em.  Can’t open ‘em.  Can’t wake up. 

 

It’s over, ain’t it?


	3. So When That Fog Rolls In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt: McMurphy, preferably solo with introspection & little joy… is literally the best prompt I could have ever received. This is something I’ve always wanted to write, but never had the chance.
> 
> The result: Bromden’s POV is painful thru the last 30 or so pages. What if we had Mack’s?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God I hope this doesn’t get too confusing.

Heavy.  Whole body feels heavy.  But I can open my eyes now.  I open ‘em, but I’m not on the surgery table.  I ain’t in that bright room.  I ain’t anywhere on the ward at all.  I’m somewhere in the darkness.  Is this that fragile personality or soul or whatever, Harding?  This what you was talkin’ ‘bout? 

Close my eyes here in the darkness, an’ open them up in the light.  The lights are green again.  Doctors an’ nurses buzzin’ in my ears an’ clangin’ all around me.  Guess those sedatives didn’t work now, did they, fellas?  Maybe there’s strength in my personality yet.

It’s a rally!  McMurphy’s back in the game!  It’s in my nature to buck wild, even when I don’t got a chance.  That’s what this was anyway: me bucking ‘gainst the odds an’ losin’.  It’s in my nature to struggle, so I do so.  They’re tryin’ to put this breathin’ apparatus on me.  I can move my neck, so I move it – shimmy side to side.  The buzzin’ gets louder, so I get wilder.  My body don’t feel as heavy.  I’m liftin’ off that bed, growlin’ as the mask comes peelin’ off me.  I don’t wanna breathe their poisoned air.  It’s not over ‘till I say so. 

_Buzz buzz buzz._   They prick my arm a few more times.  My body has weight again.  Damn.  Damn, damn, damn.  I don’t wanna breathe their poisoned air.  Don’t wanna fall asleep.  They don’t got to do me in like this.  They don’t got to assassinate my character.

But they will.  They are.  My whole body’s an anchor.  They slip the mask back on.  I’m too weak to hold my breath.  So I breathe.  I breathe in those chemicals.  My eyes are droopin’, saggin’ – like the chest of the nurse to my immediate left.  I blink on account of my dry eyes – a mistake.  It takes almost all the strength outta me just to open ‘em again.  They’re anchors again.  It’s like I’m liftin’ that big ol’ machine, but it’s just these damn eye flaps.  I try to go the distance, try to suffer thru the dry eye.

I’m sufferin’.  I thought Chief was crazy talkin’ ‘bout all that fog – I mean the Chief _is_ a bit cuckoo, but I never understood all that fog talk.  But there’s a fog rollin’ in, an’ it’s headed straight for me.  Fog thick an’ rancid as spoiled milk.  Fog all grey an’ gangly.  Fog all over the damn place. 

Oh I see it now, Chief.  That soupy fog.  That mo-lasses fog.  That ball-shrinkin’, paralyzin’, overwhelmin’ fog.  Chief, I don’t know how the hell you managed all these years.  I sure as hell couldn’t.  But I’m weak, Chief.  Ol’ Randle is weak.

I can’t fight it anymore.  Can’t fight the fog.  It won’t do any good.  It won’t do any damn good.  But I tried, didn’t I?  Didn’t I give it my best?  But it don’t mean a damn thing.

 

I’m out cold, but somewhere between dreamin’ an’ just sleepin’.  But I can think – at least, I _think_ I’m thinkin’.  It’s the only thing I _can_ do down here.

I try to look down at m’self, but… I ain’t got no body.  I’m here, but ain’t.  I’m thinkin’, but that’s all I got.  Ain’t there that famous quote: I think therefore I am?  Guess that’s comfortin’, ‘cause that damn fog has already robbed me of my body.  Soon I ain’t gunna have any control.  Over my body, my self, my entire si-tu-ation.  Is that what you were talkin’ ‘bout, Chief?  That sort of fog?  An o-ppressive fog?  Well if I can see it, if I can feel it… guess that means I was crazy after all, huh?

Now that ain’t true.  I’ve been avoidin’ the truth.  I gotta face the truth an’ face the facts, while I still remember ‘em.  While I still got ‘em.  That ain’t true.  I’m a type of crazy, but not the Chronic kind.  I’m the connin’ kind.  Connivin’ an’ crazy; a crook of a kook.  This fog ain’t makin’ a coward outta me – I’m just finally showin’ my true colors in the face of it.  I got a yellow streak in me.  I’m a yellow-bellied liar.

Chief, if you can hear me thru the fog.  An’ Billy, an’ Cheswick, an’ even you Harding.  All of ya: this whole godforsaken thing was a _farce_.  I’m a fraud, a fraud with a plot.  Big Nurse, y’know it takes a lot outta me to admit it, but she was right _.  Hoowee,_ she saw right on thru me.  Down to the core of this gamblin’ man, this hootin’ an’ hollerin’ sonuvabitch.  She saw it some’a the time – not all’a the time – but a damn good some.  Well a clock that’s busted – that’ll be me soon, _busted_ – is right twice a day now, ain’t it?  But this whole godforsaken thing was a farce.  The best community service ol’ Randle could wrestle up.

It was a lie, but… for a while, it **seemed** like community service.  In my mind, it **seemed** it.  I was doin’ the boys a favor, I was doin’ it on account of the community.  I was RA McMurphy, Resident Advisor Randle lookin’ out for his brethren on the ward.  That’s what it **_seemed_** like.

I was able to weasel my way ‘round the judge, avoid a sentence.  But… it’s all turned into a real sentence – an’ death row to boot.  _I damn deserve it, don’t I?_   I ain’t bein’ self-effacin’, like Hard-on.  Just statin’ the facts, yellow an’ red.  Those facts are comin’ to me in the fog – that’s why it’s so thick.  That fog is swarmin’ with the truth, drowin’ me with it.  It’s rollin’ in an’ I gotta face it.

An’ it’s not just that girl I gotta account for now, take responsibility for now.  But those two boys – those two **_dead boys_** , McMurphy.  They dead on account of you.  On account of you an’ your hubris.  On account of you an’ your damn con.

Was it worth it, McMurphy?  ‘Cause they’re dead.  They’re dead as _dogs._


	4. When That Panic Sinks In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt: McMurphy, preferably solo with introspection & little joy… is literally the best prompt I could have ever received. This is something I’ve always wanted to write, but never had the chance.
> 
> The result: Bromden’s POV is painful thru the last 30 or so pages. What if we had Mack’s?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I wanted this to be as similar to Chief’s combination of dialogue and narration to the audience. Hopefully… it’s acceptable.

I’ve been swimmin’ in this fog damn near long enough… I think I’m seein’ things.  I’m makin’ out figures in the fog.  They look like people.  Now you’ve done it, McMurphy.  You’ve damn near landed in the cuckoo’s nest now.  None of this is real, ya idjit.

But this **is** real.  This might be all I have left.  I’m just about dead an’ gone.  Once they scramble my brains, this might be permanent.  There’ll be nothin’ left.  Nothin’ left but the fog.  The fog an’ the truth, the whole truth, an’ nothin’ but.  Ain’t that right, Chief?  I ain’t got a heart, but I’m still racin’.  Somethin’s still racin’. 

I don’t want this to be over, Chief.  I don’t wanna face the music.  An’ my greedy ass, my denyin’ ass, don’t even wanna face the facts.  I don’t want this fog.  I ain’t got limbs, but I still feel the goosebumps.  I ain’t got a spine, but it’s still shiverin’ up an’ down.  I ain’t got a body, but I still feel the panic.  I still feel fear. 

I’m afraid.  Those bodies, those dead bodies in the fog, are slitherin’ closer.  They’re howlin’, the dead dogs that they are.  I see ‘em.  See ‘em creepin’ a-closer to me – Cheswick an’ Billy.  Cheswick all blue, lips grey, eyes white.  He’s tryin’ to drown me just like he did. Billy, wrists red with dried blood.  He’s leavin’ streaks of red in that fog.  Streaks of blood slitherin’ like snakes, right to me.  I ain’t got legs, but I try to jump outta their way.  An’ I try to run. 

I’m always runnin’.  I don’t like when my mistakes, my regrets, my damnations are catchin’ on up to me.  But today’s the day.  I ain’t gunna outrun ‘em.  The fog’s too thick.  My phantom limbs struggle in it, strain in the fog.

I turn back an’ they’re starin’ me in the face, Cheswick an’ Billy.  Even Harding.  Even YOU, Chief – my imaginary friend turned into a phantom companion.  Did you do this, Chief?  Naw, that’s crazy.  Now THAT is some crazy talk.  The only one down here is me.  Or is the fog finally bindin’ us all together?  Bindin’ us like a true brotherhood to each other?  Maybe you’re Chief, an’ you’re Harding, an’ you’re Billy.  An’ Cheswick.  I… I ain’t seen you in a damn long time. 

Maybe this is just a hallucination.  Or maybe consciences are real.  Or maybe, just maybe, that Nurse is sendin’ me these ghosts as her final act of god.  Or maybe this is the Big Man himself.  Maybe that final an’ last judgment is real.  Maybe this’ll decide if I’m an angel or a demon. 

Fine.  I’ll entertain them notions.  I’ll talk.  I’ll plead my case.  No – I’ll just come clean.  I washed my hands of so many things, but these hands ain’t clean.  All my regrets are standin’ here right in front o’ me. 

 

Fine fine fine.  I’ll talk, fellas.  _I’ll talk._


	5. Save Your Prayers, Pity, an’ Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt: McMurphy, preferably solo with introspection & little joy… is literally the best prompt I could have ever received. This is something I’ve always wanted to write, but never had the chance.
> 
> The result: Bromden’s POV is painful thru the last 30 or so pages. What if we had Mack’s?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly whenever I get a prompt I sneak as much Cheswick in there as possible. He’s a forgotten character to the fandom. A quite egregiously underused character in the fandom. Let me push the agenda on you. 
> 
> Actually this entire fic is just my Cuckoo agenda/s. Whoops.

Chewsick.  First is first, I suppose.  Now, I know you don’t wanna hear ‘em, but I got some things to say to ya.  Things I never got the chance to.  Things that are the truth. 

Now, I ain’t sure who this’ll be harder on: me or you.  The dead man, or the cold killer?  The man who lost hope, or the one who has none – deserves none. 

But Cheswick.  I got to just fuckin’ say.  I got to just goddamn start with this.  Cheswick, I never asked to be your Jesus H. Christ.  _I never damn wanted to be your Jesus H. Fuckin’ Christ._ Why did you expect that of me?  Why did everyone expect that of me?  I’m just one man.  I’m just one gamblin’ con man.  That just ain’t fair, Cheswick.  That ain’t fair.  You can’t just pin it all on me.  You can’t expect all that from me.  ME, me of all damn people you could’ve chosen.  Who in damnation asked you to put your faith in an o-ffender of the law?  Faith in a goddamn public menace?  **No one, that’s who!**

Who’s the fool here, Cheswick?  Who’s the fool?  When I jump off the deep end off that bridge, do I expect the whole damn cuckoo nest to fly right in to hell with me?  Maybe I AM crazy, ‘cause I did all those things, but I never expected this – or did I?  Is that where I went wrong?  Am I too caught up in my lies?  In my excuses?

Maybe I AM crazy, ‘cause you followed along as much as any.  We wanted that baseball, we wanted that room, we wanted those privileges.  I enabled ya, an’ you enabled me.  I regret that.

But enablin’ shouldn’t have killed ya.  I led you to water an’ I left you there.  I let you down.  I was the worst Jesus, an’ a worse friend.  I left you damn down there, held you down.  I regret that.

Cheswick, you just wanted somethin’ done.  An’ I failed you.  I laid low for a lil’ bit.  Big Nurse wasn’t respondin’ well to my buck backs.  It was a temporary setback.  But it pissed you off.  Made you do somethin’ foolish.  After that temper tantrum, you drowned your damn self. 

It was just over damn cigarettes, damn nothin’, but I could’ve just stood by you.  I could’ve stuck my neck out for one more battle.  It wouldn’t have made a difference to me, or the Nurse, but to you.  It would’ve made the difference for you.  I built you up, then blew you down.

I regret that before I came down on this ward like thunder, you were safe.  All y’all were safe.  Chief told me, but I didn’t listen.  Harding told me, but I didn’t listen.  I scoffed at your safety in numbers.  I scoffed at how pathetic ball-less men were.  Scoffed at you pansies an’ pussies.  But I guess there IS safety in numbers.  In mute deaf numbers.  In quiet roosters an’ rabbits.  You were part of a pack.  Packs don’t always gotta be made of wolves.  Packs protect the pack. 

You can’t blame me for tryin’ to light your fire – in the plu-tonic sense, of course.  But do you blame me, Cheswick?  Do you blame me?  When you were turnin’ blue in that blue pool, did you blame me?  Were you strugglin’ for breath an’ strugglin’ to accept me?  I wanted to light a fire, but I didn’t want to be the one to snuff it out. 

Am I a killer, Cheswick?  I led you to water, but did I lead you to death?  Was this a cult?  Were you the first sacrifice?  Was this a con of personality?  A cult of personality?  Don’t answer that.  You don’t need to.  I’m guilty.  Knew it as soon as I saw your body.  I knew it in my dreams.  You can’t fool them dreams, can ya?  Maybe that Freud was right.

‘Cause after they drained it all.  After they tried to brush it all under the rug, business as usual.  That week, that whole damn week, I woke up in cold sweats.  I was drenched an’ dank.  I kept dreamin’ ‘bout your body sinkin’, down down down in the deep.  In those dreams, nightmares of conscience, I go down an’ try to pry you up.  I try to raise you up, like the Christ you wanted, by myself.

But I can’t do it, Cheswick.  I can’t do it.  The weight of it all.  The weight of you an’ me.  The weight of everyone on this damn ward.  It weighs me down.  It weighs you down.  It damn weighs a ton.  Hell, it’s got to me right NOW, Cheswick.  An’ I’m sorry.

I’m guilty ‘cause I wanted to be a demigod, ‘cause it takes a demigod to go after the Big Nurse.  It takes a miracle of a man to take an angel down.  An’ what’s so wrong with that?  What’s so wrong with liberatin’ these men that I cared about?  But I let it all get to me.  I let that power get to me.  I was careless.  I was reckless.  I was me.  No sorta man like me should have power.  I ain’t cut for that. 

In the end… did you realize that?  Realize you followed a man madder than yourself?  A cursed man who couldn’t save a thing?  A flawed man who wasn’t fit to lead?  A man oblivious that he was a dead man walkin’ on the ward?  I wonder if you’d be laughin’ at the sight of me.  A sad an’ sorry sight of me.  Ol’ McMurphy wheeled down to the brain-scramble ward.  But maybe that don’t matter.

I got a question for ya, Cheswick, if ghosts can even talk.  If I even go to the same place as you when this is done an’ over.  When I’m out of limbo an’ on to another place.  Here’s my question:  who would you hate more?  Ol’ scrambled eggs McMurphy?  Or McMurphy the big bad wolf?  A McMurphy who’s senile or sane?  Mute or belligerent?  Docile or dangerous?

Who would you hate more, Cheswickle?  Who do you hate more?  Do you hate me?  Because I hate myself.  I don’t want any pity, Cheswick, but _I hate myself._   On account of all of this.  On account of you an’ Billy.  I shouldn’t have to fixate on those last thoughts of yours.  You should still be goddamn THINKIN’, Cheswick. 

I still can’t sleep with that weight.  That weight that you died hatin’ me.  An’ the weight that I _deserve_ to be hated.  I gotta carry that weight.  I guess that’s my cross now, ain’t it?   Maybe I ain’t a martyr, but I AM bein’ sacrificed.  Don’t pray for me, fellas. I’m one of them false gods.  I was ALWAYS a false god, a fraud.  I gotta carry that weight.

Does that satisfy you?  Can a ghost be satisfied?  Guess it don’t matter.  Them white eyes have stayed white, an’ those grey lips have stayed grey.  You’re blue as blue as blue.  A true phantom reminder. 

Speakin’ of phantoms, someone else is comin’ up to face me – comin’ so that I can face them.  Good talk, Chesghost.  Good talk.


	6. ‘Cause You Ain’t Foolin’ Anyone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt: McMurphy, preferably solo with introspection & little joy… is literally the best prompt I could have ever received. This is something I’ve always wanted to write, but never had the chance.
> 
> The result: Bromden’s POV is painful thru the last 30 or so pages. What if we had Mack’s?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now I love fluffy McMurphy / Harding as much as the next guy, but let’s be real for a few minutes, shall we? Let’s be real. Let’s not fool ourselves with too much AU now.

Oho!  What a sight for sore eyes!  _Hoowee,_ what a surprise indeed!

 

Now Harding, I must say that your hands have never looked paler – or prettier, heh.  They were like ivory before, in their corporeal form, but this is somethin’ else entirely. 

Now you don’t look all that menacin’ – not like those ghouls Cheswick or Billy – but I know that’s deceivin’.  You’re adept at deception, Harding.  You don’t give yourself enough credit.

Naw, I think I know the reason.  You don’t wanna give yourself credit ‘cause you don’t wanna play the villain.  Or see yourself as such.  Let McMurphy be the big bad wolf.  You’re just a lil’ puppy dog – that’s what you want ‘em to think.  But you got claws an’ teeth, too.  Sometimes you’re just afraid to use ‘em.  Or worse yet, re-luctant.

But like I told Cheswick – at first I didn’t understand it.  At first I didn’t understand pure survival.  I didn’t have much of a high regard for most of ya.  An’ Harding, I was a bit _hard_ on you.  Take it as a pun, but also take it as the truth.  ‘Cause when I first saw you, I saw someone who was hen-pecked an’ nerve-wrecked.  Someone cucked an’ not fucked.  Someone who’s just a lil’ bit queer, m’dear.  Those were my first thoughts.  I regret those. 

That’s not as heavy a weight as some of the others, you know that, but I’m guilty.  When I look at you an’ your clean hands, hands much cleaner than mine for reasons I’ll get into later don’t you worry, I just feel guilty.  ‘Cause I have to leave you behind, Harding.

Harding, we were s’pposed to leave this joint.  Together, man to man.  As that due date neared, you grew.  You went from that hen-pecked an’ timid guy, hidin’ his hands an’ makin’ quips under his breath.  You went from a man afraid of castin’ his own damn shadow, to castin’ spells with those breaths.  You went from hidin’ your neck, for survival an’ for yourself, to stickin’ out that neck for me, for my sake. 

Harding, I regret you defendin’ me.  I regret you rallyin’ ‘round me.  I regret persuadin’ an’ teachin’ you my ways, my guile.  You had it in you an’ I tapped it out of you.  It was in there, brewin’, then I spilt it all out.  You’re one of them maple trees an’ that sap was your power.  I’m afraid they’ll use you up – that I used you up.  I’m afraid I used up all your rhetoric, all your strength.  An’ at the end of it all, you doubted.  You held out for a while – you was a stubborn one. 

But then that silver tongue of yours started gettin’ sour in your mouth, didn’t it?  You didn’t believe those words of yours, did ya?  They got hollower an’ hollower.  You started howlin’ lies, an’ that didn’t sit well witcha.  ‘Cause soon the only ones who believed in me was Chief an’ Billy.  An’ I let down Billy – an’ I’ll get to him in a moment, don’t you damn worry.  But I guess I let you down too.

An’ I guess I’m a lil’ bit upset.  I mean I’ve let down many a man in my time, an’ I’ve disappointed quite a few dick-riders in my time too, but you… you were another type’a animal.  I don’t even know WHERE you stand on the subject of me, Harding.  Are ya in or are ya out?  Was it ever ride or die?  Or were you usin’ me, just like I was usin’ the rest of ya?  Chief came to me, man-to-man, someone who could see it all.  Billy an’ Cheswick, they needed me.  They were little lost lambs lookin’ for a shepherd savior – an’ that’s where we all got into trouble.  But you. 

 _Who was I to you, Harding?  What was I?  What the damn hell were we?_   What the fuck were we doin’?  An’ what the fuck were you tryin’ to prove?  That you were a man with me, an’ not her?  You don’t need to prove your damn self to me.  I’ve seen an’ saw it all.  When you started damnin’ Vera just to get in good graces with me, I just damn near had it.  When you admitted you actually liked havin’ the power, the power of madness, on that boat, I was damn near flabbergasted. 

What the fuck were you, really, Harding?  A wolf in sheep’s clothing?  A sheep in wolf’s clothing?  An’ why the hell did you defend me, if you knew it would end like this?  When, in the beginning, you warned me?  You warned me, an’ you were RIGHT.  You were damn near RIGHT about everything!  That angel of mercy de-balled me alright.  That angel of fuckin’ mercy came down HARD on my ass, Harding. 

But then you started changin’ your tune.  You went along with the con, an’ you had a few cons of your own.  _I resent that._   If I was a liar, you were a flip-floppin’ player if I ever saw one!  I’m guilty for hidin’ all of these thoughts, but it’s the truth!  It’s the goddamn truth!  You can’t just pick an’ choose when an’ where you want to support me, just when it suits ya!  You can’t live when I can’t!  Other men goddamn died followin’ me!  But you can get out!  You can get out if you ain’t such a goddamn _coward!_   I’m guilty because I goddamn RESENT your flip-floppin’ cowardly ass!  ‘Cause you can get out without the _con_ sequences, an’ I was caught an’ I can’t!

You **better** go the damn distance, Harding.  I ain’t askin’ you be-cause of me.  You can make it in SPITE of me.  You damn SHOULD.  This goddamn metamorphosis better not be a fluke – better not be just ‘cause I was your shield.  _You can’t put that on me, Harding._

The truth is I’m jealous an’ selfish, an’ you never should’ve played your cards on account of me.  You never should’ve exposed yourself on account of me.  You could’ve just worked that system, just like Chief, in your own way.  But you used up that rhetoric on account of me.  You were right to wise up an’ start holdin’ your tongue. 

Harding, when I’m gone, **forget me.**   Save those words while you can, bull goose loony.  Save ‘em.  You’ll need ‘em.  You’ll need ‘em when I’m gone.  ‘Cause Chief can act, but you, you’re a talker.  You’ll always be a talker, a shower before a grower.  They’ll need you to talk.  Hell, maybe even to negotiate.  These terms I’m leavin’ on… they’re not the best ones.  They’re the worst in my life.  They’re ENDIN’ my life, goddamnit!

But my god, you wanna know the worst regret, Harding?  You wanna know the worst?  You know I don’t hate you.  You know I hold you in high regard.  You were a left hand man with a sculpted hand.  An’ I regret not listening to you in the first place.  I damn tried to change things, but I made ‘em worse.  _Why didn’t I just damn listen to ya?  Why’d I have to damn do it?  If I’d’ve just listened, I wouldn’t be all lobo-tomized!  I’d be a rabbit, but Randle the rabbit.  Not a patient, but a player.  Harding, why didn’t you push me?  Convince me?  Why’d you let me go this far?  Why didn’t you stop me?  You could’ve stopped me!  Why didn’t you just keep tryin’?!_

Sorry.  I’m sorry.  I’m outburstin’ out of turn.  I ain’t got blood right now, but it’s boilin’.  Emotions high – you understand, right, Dale dear?

But Harding, I regret more not seeing this thru to the end.  You’ve changed – for the better.  You’ve changed an’ you’ll get outta this someday – on your own terms.  But I won’t be there.  I’m jealous that I won’t be there.  I spoke out outta bitterness ‘cause I ache.  You got a yellow streak in ya, but I got one in me, too.  Is that what they call pro-jection?  I’m guilty for bein’ a hypocrite, I know I know.  An’ this big ol’ hypocrite won’t be with ya, Harding.  I won’t goddamn be there.  You’ll be with the livin’, an’ I’ll be with the dead.  _That aches._   I don’t got no bones, but it aches. 

God damn damnit, Harding!  Why couldn’t you have dragged your ass outta there with me that night?  Why weren’t ya ready?  We could’ve made it out!  We could’ve goddamn made it out!  _Fuck your traditional red tape!  Fuck yer standards an’ yer system!_   I could’ve made it outta there with that selfish pansy ass!  We could’ve made it!  You an’ me an’ Chief an’ Billy!  **_We could’ve goddamn made it!_** Men’ walkin’ on outta there as men!But we didn’t!  I failed!  I failed an’ I’m here now.  I ain’t never gunna leave now.  Not like this.  Not like this.

So you better damn make it out.  You better goddamn get outta there, Harding.  You better not revert back to bein’ a rabbit.  You say people on the ward ain’t rabbits now, but I ain’t buyin’ it yet.  If you all revert, I won’t live with my dang self.  I already got enough demons, enough dead boy skeletons in the closet.  You can’t join ‘em.  You can’t fall for it – for her bullshit no more.  You’ve filled your head with your fancy talk, but don’t let her back in there.  Don’t let her in there, buzzin’ ‘round like a busy queen bee.  You just can’t.

Cheswick, no!  Get your damn hands offa him!  Don’t take him there with ya!  Let go of his goddamn hand!

Harding!  I don’t care if you’re a ghost or an illusion or my conscience or goddamn drugs!  You gotta hear me!  You GOT to!  You can’t go back into that fog, Harding!  I can’t follow you there.  I can’t do that, Harding.  You followed me, but I can’t follow you.  You can’t go back!  You can’t goddamn go back!  You gotta break free!  _Promise me you’ll break free!_

Harding!

HARDING?!

He’s gone.  Only two of these ghosts now.  An’ I know who the next one is.  I don’t wanna face him.  You can’t make me face him.  I don’t have a heart, but this’ll break it.  Naw, it’s already broken. 

 

 

 

 

Big Nurse didn’t break me.  She can’t take credit for somethin’ Billy Bibbit did. 


	7. They Don’t Wanna Hear It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt: McMurphy, preferably solo with introspection & little joy… is literally the best prompt I could have ever received. This is something I’ve always wanted to write, but never had the chance.
> 
> The result: Bromden’s POV is painful thru the last 30 or so pages. What if we had Mack’s?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> During this summer semester I made a book about Billy Bibbit. I was inspired by that book and the canon. 
> 
> I’ve made many works on Billy’s suicide, but none like this. It’s been a while since I’ve completely reread it and stewed on it, over it, all of it. Painful.
> 
> Heed this as a content / trigger warning: I’m referencing the suicide. I’m referencing the graphic nature of the suicide. 
> 
> Also I’m referencing all the conflicting emotions Mack has toward Billy. The REAL Mack / Billy relationship, not the movie’s. Mack gets frustrated quite frequently at him, but it’s always from a loving place. Not from outright hostility.

Funny.  It feels like I’m gettin’ the silent treatment from a goddamn ghost.  You can’t even look at me, can ya, Billy?  I don’t blame ya.  But listen to what I got to say.  I know it got wild hearin’ me sound off with Harding, but you gotta listen.  I know I lied.  But you gotta. 

Billy.  I’m a sinner, not a saint.  I know you don’t wanna hear it – I know you were _resistant_ to hear it – but McMurphy’s the biggest sinner of ‘em all.  There’s a Rushmore of sinnin’ out there an’ I’m one of those heads.  I was a hero to a lot of ‘em, a saint even, but you…  I regret lettin’ you down the most. 

I can’t make things back to the way they was.  I wish I could.  I wish I had the powers you thought I had.  Wish I was the man you thought I was.  But I’m not.  That Big Nurse was right.  I’m a fox, Billy.  That’s what I am.  That’s all I ever was.

Foxes are covered in red.  Covered in cons.  All those red streaks, those red snakes, are slitherin’ to me.  Birds of a feather flock together, right?  They’re snakes made of sin, an’ it’s mine.

I lied to you, Billy.  The dough, all that dough, all that profit. _The old girl had some good points._ An’ she won a lot ‘em back.  Ratched was runnin’ a sound campaign. 

An’ that last night – the night you had with Candy.  I was usin’ everyone, but I was usin’ that too.  I was plannin’ makin’ my big e-scape that night.  I was plannin’ to use all that commotion to slip by unseen.  I’m guilty – an’ that’s why I failed.  But I ain’t lyin’ to you now, Billy.  I won’t.  I can’t.  I promise. 

That’s good.  You’re lookin’ at me now.  That’s progress.  That’s mighty fine progress.  I’ll take that.  You listenin’?  You should.  ‘Cause I never seen Candy take a likin’ to nobody that fast – except yours truly.  I ain’t never seen her take a likin’ to NOBODY that fast.  An’ that got me thinkin’.  I can’t help but think, what if you got outta there?   Harding’s still got that chance, Chief too, but what if you had it too?  What if you got outta there an’ snuggled next to Candy, like rabbits?  Makin’ babies, like rabbits?  Havin’ a big ol’ happy family, of happy lil’ rabbits?

Was that what was meant to be, Billy?  Was that your plan that you were formulatin’ after you was copulatin’?  Well I regret that.  I regret givin’ you that opportunity, an’ I regret takin’ it away.  Maybe I’m the demigod I wanted to be after all.  ‘Cause you got a taste of that forbidden fruit – in the Biblical sense.  Your snake was tempted an’ that was the end.   After you tasted that fruit an’ was caught, that was the end.  That Ratched, that angel of mercy alright, she cast you out.  An’ I regret that. 

_I regret that, Billy.  Do you believe me?  I’m not lying now, Billy._ I know I lied, Billy, but seein’ you – seein’ everyone – but seein’ you happy, it made **me** happy.  Some folks just don’t get lives where happiness comes easy to ‘em.  That’s you.  Some folks get spoons FULL o’ sugar, but you barely got even a taste one night.  Your last night.  _It’s not goddamn fair, Billy.  It’s not goddamn fair.  I hate myself.  I goddamn hate myself._

‘Cause Billy, seein’ you smile – even the hint of one – was enough to keep me goin’.  To push thru all this.  To try to push the odds in our favor – in YOUR favor.  I wanted to be that demigod.  I wanted to be that hero for ya.  I wanted to be everything for goddamn EVERYONE.  I was alright with bein’ used.  I was alright with bein’ Cheswick’s Christ, an’ Harding’s shield, an’ Chief’s voice.  I wanted so GODDAMN much to change things.  I wanted the dough an’ I wanted power, but I also wanted to change it all.  I wanted it all.  I wanted everythin’ for everyone.  I was greedy.  I was greedy an’ naïve.  I thought it would be easy.  Thought I could con the Nurse like I conned the judge.  Thought I could lie my way outta this, just like I always do.  Thought my lies could save everyone.  But McMurphy’s lies did more harm than good. 

The Nurse, she ain’t like a judge.  She’s just like Bromden said – part of that goddamn all-powerful Combine.  I ain’t never faced anyone like that before.  I was naïve.  I didn’t listen to Harding, an’ I was naïve.  I gave in to my hubris.  An’ my hubris ruined things. 

I couldn’t stop it.  Couldn’t damn stop her.  I’m guilty, Billy.  My hair’s the same red you left all over the floor.  I’ve never seen it spill that quick, that thick, that much.  Oh, I wish **She** didn’t find you first, Billy.  I wish your last moments were with me, Billy.  Wish you didn’t have a last moment at ALL, Billy.

GodDAMN, godDAMN, godDAMN, Billy!  You didn’t stutter!  Didn’t stutter at all!  There was a damn time you didn’t stutter!  You were confident!  You were the stud, the man after the prowl!  You had it!  You had a taste of the good life!  You were finally a man your age!  You were finally a MAN!  An’ she took that away from you.  It just goddamn isn’t fair.  I pushed you, an’ she pushed you.  We pushed you.  You were caught up in our own tug-o-war match – mine an’ the Big Nurse’s.  You were caught in the middle.  Everyone on the ward was caught in the middle, but you, you were that lamb.  You were that goddamn innocent lamb that got slaughtered.  We all know the Big Nurse is careless an’ heartless, but what about me? 

Why didn’t I protect you, Billy?  _Why didn’t I do right by you?_   By Cheswick?  Why did everything catch up with you?   I should’ve protected you from yourself.  Billy, I know this means goddamn nothing to you, but if I could trade places with you, I would.  I would’ve.  But I doubt it’d do a damn thing.  I doubt you’d stand up on your own.  I thought you could.  I really thought you could.

With all the growth that happened.  With you standin’ up to her for a lil’ bit – temporarily.  With everything… I thought you had developed claws.  I thought you had developed a bite.  This all sounds damn horrible, I know it, but this is what I think.  I’ve been painfully honest with everyone else.  I ain’t gunna cheat you outta it.  Hell’s bells, you’re dead!  I can’t kill ya twice now, can I?

But Billy, _I thought you were stronger._   But you went for those scissors.  You did.  You goddamn went for ‘em.  Candy said you didn’t look phrenic this an’ pathic that, but Billy you did.  An’ you slit yer throat. 

You slit yer throat.  The Nurse blames it all on me.  I blame it on her.  But she’s right, in a way.  I should’ve protected ya.  As soon as she pulled out that card, the queen mother, you were gone.  All that progress, all that confidence, gone.  Blown out with a big ol’ puff.  The big bad wolf huffed an’ she puffed, an’ she blew the house down.  Blew down that house of a Seclusion Room.  She blew you ‘till you was shakin’ like a leaf, shakin’ like a goddamn leaf.

I didn’t t-t-t-t-tease ya, Billy, an’ yet I did.  I didn’t p-p-p-push ya, Billy, an’ yet I did.  But I ain’t a god.  She was wrong to call me that.  I played with lives, but I ain’t no god.  If I was a god I could’ve protected you. 

I should’ve goddamn protected you.  I’m mad at her an’ myself.  I’m mad at her for poisonin’ you.  Mad at her for robbin’ you of any strength – any inner strength to goddamn defend yourself.  Mad at that bitch feedin’ you lies when you was finally showin’ some backbone.  Mad at her for undoin’ you – you an’ your progress.  You could’ve had a future!  Not just with Candy, but outta this mess.  But she undid it all.  Yer scars were all scabbed up, an’ she just picked away at you ‘till you bled all over the floor.  Yer wounds were all stitched up, an’ she just pulled ‘em all out.  One by one she destroyed ya.

But y’know what the worst of it was?  The doggone WORST of it?  What truly made me attack that ball-peckin’ hell hen?  Her callin’ you _little boy._   That b-b-b-bitch had no right callin’ you some _poor little boy._   No right at all.  Not after all that.  Not after seein’ you as a man an’ makin’ you a boy again.  ‘Cause you went right on back to stutterin’.  You went right on back to cuttin’.  You were a man fer a moment, then back to bein’ a r-r-r-r-rabbit.  An’ she dared to ask fer pity.

But I didn’t make ya stronger.  I made Chief stronger, hell I made goddamn _Harding_ stronger.  But I didn’t make _you_ stronger.  I didn’t make you **bigger,** Billy.   I’m mad at myself ‘cause you were just a kid, Billy.  An’ I gotta carry the weight of killin’ your po-tential.  You were just a KID, ya hear?  You were just a GODDAMN KID. 

Why’d ya do it, Billy?  Why couldn’t you believe in me anymore?  Why did you do it?  Billy, I MISS you.  Billy Bibbit, _the_ renowned Billy Bibbit.  You were the lil’ brother I never had.  On a ward of dyin’ men, men rustin’ away like the machinery, you were ALIVE.  You were alive an’ all you wanted to do was die. 

An’ I thought I reached you.  Thought I lit that fire in you, too.  Thought I gave you that spark.  Thought you’d keep on livin’.  After ol’ man McMurphy was gone, you’d keep on livin’.  An’ maybe not even with Candy, but with SOMEONE.  You were supposed to be **somebody** , Billy.  You were only just startin’ out. 

You were a kid.  Okay I mean sure you wasn’t bi-o-logically a kid, especially not chron-o-logically, but you was truly just startin’ out.  You hadn’t flown from the coop.  You were trapped by those mother wings, trapped in that mother’s nest.  A kid with that buck-toothed grin.  With those freckle-specked cheeks an’ nose.  With a lil’ twinkle in your eyes. 

Now look at me, Billy.  Look at me wit’ those stone cold eyes.  I helped put that twinkle out, I know.  I’m honest, Billy.  I ain’t lyin’ to you now.  ‘Cause Billy, I loved you like a brother.  I’ll always love you like a brother.  I loved you an’ I _failed_ you.  I damn failed my kid brother.    

I wish you could forgive me.  I wish I never could’ve disappointed you.  That ain’t how life works, but I wish none of this could’ve happened.  I regret pluckin’ you from that rabbit hole, Billy.  If I’d’ve just left you in there, you’d still be alive.  By God, you’d still be alive. 

I only wanted what was best for ya, Billy – especially that night.  I wanted to give you your day of glory.  I only wanted what was best for ya, stud. 

 

What say you, Chief?  I know those big shoulders anywhere.  No need to be silent here, big fella.  No one’s gunna rat you out.  Talk to me, Chief.  Are you here to judge me?  On behalf of Billy?  On behalf of Cheswick?  On behalf of Harding?  I wouldn’t be damn surprised.  You’ve seen it all.  You know a man better than he knows himself. You certainly saw thru me. 

So tell me, Chief.  What’s my judgment?  What’s my sentence, Chief?  You’re the chief, the real ruler, of this ward now, ain’t ya?  Who has the power now?


	8. ‘Cause They Already Heard It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt: McMurphy, preferably solo with introspection & little joy… is literally the best prompt I could have ever received. This is something I’ve always wanted to write, but never had the chance.
> 
> The result: Bromden’s POV is painful thru the last 30 or so pages. What if we had Mack’s?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> McMurphy is incredibly antiblack in parts of the book. I… captured a slice of his essence, but even I toned it down considerably. I honestly can’t do it. Just know… McMurphy SHOULD be worse. He calls the aides the n-word. He calls them every animal name in the book. He says it all. It’s disgusting. 
> 
> Alcohol & drunk CW / TW as well. McMurphy is eluding to THAT night.

Chief, heh.  It’s time for me to come clean with you too.  Surprised you didn’t bring a broom out here with ya.  A broom, a mop, **somethin’** to clean my mess up.  I guess I gotta get sappy with you too.  I have to leave my brother from an Indian mother behind.  Well actually, your Pa was the Indian.  But that’s beside the point.  Semantics an’ what not.

Chief, what matters is me leavin’ you to fend fer yourself.  That’s not true.  It’s me leavin’ you to _find_ yourself.  I regret not seein’ this thru with you to the end.  This fog is thick, an’ it took a while findin’ you in it.  It took a while coaxin’ you outta of it – coaxin’ you to talk.  But what’s made me happy is seein’ you, your real self.  What’s made me happy is see you grow, grow big – an’ I ain’t talkin’ bout that incident with the six inches now.

Back in there… back in there, I messed up a lot, Chief.  A hell of a lot.  But you, helpin’ you find yourself again… that was the damn best thing I ever did.  An’ maybe… the only good thing I didn’t ruin.  Not many even know about it – the whole of it.  They don’t know the extent of that influence, an’ I think it’s better that way.  I lied a hell of a lot, Chief.  A lot of shit hit the fan on behalf of yours truly.  But you… everything about you… Chief, I didn’t do it for the dough.  That was never a factor. 

Naw, you caught me, Chief.  I don’t gotta say a thing, but that stare says it all.  You caught me.  I shouldn’t’ve taken bets.  I shouldn’t’ve taken bets for liftin’ that damn machine.  But believe me – damn _believe_ me, Chief.  I didn’t do it for me.  I didn’t do it for anyone else but you.  An’ now, you’re way bigger than me, Chief.  You can **finish** things.  You can do any damn thing you want to.  ‘Cause you’re the dark horse, too dumb to change things.  That’s what they’ll all think.  They’ll think once ol’ McMurphy is outta the e-quation, you’ll go right on back to sweepin’ in silence.  I was the disease that got you actin’ outta turn – got everyone on the ward actin’ funny.  You’ll go right on back to sweepin’, shrinkin’ in that broom closet.  I’m a martyr for their cause.  If they cut me down, you’ll all fall with me. 

But that ain’t the case now, ain’t it?  The truth is, the ball’s rollin’ down the hill – an’ they can’t stop it.  They can’t stop you. 

But you can’t fight everyone’s battles, Chief.  That was my weakness.  My knees buckled.  I tried too damn hard to please everyone, to carry everyone’s weight.  I couldn’t please anyone.  The con-man just couldn’t do it.  I should’ve just kept my head down, just like you.  Worked the system, just like you.  No one needed to know more about my past than they needed to.  I could’ve just stayed docile.  Could’ve swallowed their pills an’ fallen asleep.  Could’ve went back into the rabbit hole with the rest of ya.  Could’ve just laid low.  Maybe that angel of mercy might’ve found mercy on me.

But I doubt it, an’ it ain’t in my nature to.  I care.  It’s human nature to care, ain’t it?  I mean, unless you’re part of the dang Combine.  But **I cared.** I cared about your welfare – everybody’s.  How couldn’t I?  How couldn’t I when so many men were afraid of their own damn shadow?  Of their own reflection?  Of their own hands an’ feet?  Big Nurse got ‘em too terrified to piss by themselves; too terrified to even breathe without her say.  How could I turn my cheek on you, all of you?  It’s inhumane goddamnit.

But I just had to get us trapped in that Disturbed ward, huh?  I just had to fight those goddamn apes, didn’t I?  The big broad has us carted away in cuffs, like damn wild animals.  We were some real animals in this zoo, weren’t we now, Chief?  Darn disturbed wild animals.  You was a goddamn wild Injun, weren’t ya – pardon my language there, pardner. 

But I just had to get you shocked.  You was in a trance for weeks.  That’ll be me, won’t it, Chief?  That’ll be me.  Wanderin’ the ward.  The lights on, but no one there. 

Now for me, I don’t know how I handled it.  Every zap rejuvenated me, not like now.  Every jolt was a jolt to my system.  It was almost like a goddamn HIGH.  I was ridin’ that ride, chasin’ that machinery dragon. 

Naw, that’s a lie.  I don’t know why I’m lyin’ now, Chief.  You knew I was afraid.  You saw it.  You knew it.  It was just like this.  I’d go to a place just like this.  This grey zone.  This state of Limbo-jimbo.  It’s not sleepin’ or wakin’, not livin’ or dyin’.  But the grey was different then.  I’m damn near drownin’ innit now.

Before, with all those shocks, I’d get a taste of it – dip my big hairy toe in it.  An’ that was enough to drain all the red from me.  That was enough.  I didn’t want more of it.  I was yellow – like that lil’ nurse up on Disturbed. 

I think back then, deep down in my britches, I knew it was the beginnin’ of the end.  Hell’s bells, maybe even on that boat.  It don’t matter now.  But… I knew it was the beginnin’ of the end – just when things were gettin’ good, _real good._  

I never should’ve let her know ‘bout my satisfaction.  We were too damn satisfied.  Not you, you were always in control of your emotions, but not the rest of us.  We didn’t know any better, but we gave her power.  An’ I especially played right into her trap. 

She was goin’ for that long haul victory all along.  She let me win those minor battles, but she damn near didn’t lose the war.  She’d give up some ground with that goddamn smile of hers. She knew it.  She hid it all behind that smile.  She had this outcome planned from the start.  I’m the one payin’ the price now.  I gave her a flesh wound, I sure did one in on her, but I’m the pawn.  I’m the pawn, the knight, an’ the king all in one.  Checkmate.  Check, please.  Ol’ McMurphy’s comin’ nice an’ hot to your table.  You wanna stick a fork in me, Chief?  I’ll save a nice an’ tender thigh for ya.  Gotta make sure to feed a growin’ guy like yerself.

I grew too big, Chief.  An’ the bigger they are, the harder an’ easier they fall.  She cut me down – an’ I came a-tumblin’ down.  But it felt so good.  Felt like that night we were drunk, drunk, drunk!  By thunder, we were drunk!  Swimmin’ in the stuff!  Red syrup thick as blood.  You picked up me an’ Sandy an’ paraded us around!  We got too damn satisfied.  Drunk with power an’ drunk with delight.  

But I fought the aides.  I fought the nurse.  I fought the Combine an’ I lost.  I fought the law an’ I lost.  I knew I’d lose, but I bucked back anyway.  That’s what THEY wanted.  That’s what everyone, Acute or Chronic, wanted.  Chief, sometimes givin’ the people what they want, heh, it’s a mistake.  But you do it anyway.  By God, you do it anyway.  I think you know that better than anyone, Chief.

Did I ever tell ya this before, Chief?  If I did, don’t stop me.  You’re the giant, not me.  I’m tellin’ you the truth, Chief.  You’re as tall as trees, as tall as mountains now.  You can **_leave._**  

Chief, big Chief, I gotta leave you behind now.  But just like you told me: _you are bigger an’ tougher than I am.  You can do it.  You’re twice the size of me now._

I have to leave you behind.  Don’t let that Combine get to you, Chief.  It’s beaten me, but you can’t let it get to ya.  You gotta keep running, Chief.  You gotta keep running. Get away from all this.  Get away from everyone. 

 

Promise.


	9. You Just Weren’t Strong Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt: McMurphy, preferably solo with introspection & little joy… is literally the best prompt I could have ever received. This is something I’ve always wanted to write, but never had the chance.
> 
> The result: Bromden’s POV is painful thru the last 30 or so pages. What if we had Mack’s?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes.
> 
> Also, if you haven't noticed... the chapter names flow into each other. They form a connected poem. You'll get the rest of it in the next chapter. :)

The fog’s clearin’ Chief, you see it?  Maybe I passed.  Maybe I’ve come clean after all.  Maybe this was worth it.

 

Hell’s bells, Chief!  I got myself a body again!  We’re in business!  C’mere an’ we can hug it out. 

But that lingerin’ fog still too thick.  I can’t make my way out to this phantom, this faux Chief I’ve convinced myself is real.  But I’m tryin’ to get there.  My legs are made of lead, but I gotta get there.  I don’t know if I’ll ever get this chance again.  Somethin’s tellin’ me I won’t ever get this chance again.

Desperation.  It’s not a feelin’ I’m familiar with, or somethin’ that I like.  But I feel it.  My heart, now that I got one again, is racin’.  My lungs, now that I got ‘em again, are burnin’.  I got chills up an’ down my spine, now that I got one again.  The goosebumps aren’t there, but the red snakes are.  Billy’s red snakes are wrapped all ‘round me.  They’re burnin’, searin’, into my skin.  They’re diggin’ their way in.

I can’t get there.  I need to get there, but my legs… they’re failin’ me.  My knees are bucklin’.  There’s this invisible weight on my back, on my chest, on everythin’.  An invisible hand pullin’ me back.  I fall to my knees, fall on my hands.  I’m sinkin’ into the ground – that isn’t the ground.  It’s some grey liquid that’s envelopin’ me and those limbs.

Chief.  Why is everythin’ grey, Chief?  Chief?  Oh god, Chief.  I’m terrified, Chief.  I know what this means.  I know what it all means.  They’re in there.  They’re diggin’ inside there.  They’ve swirled around with their scalpels an’ tools.  They’ve dug up my memories, my sins an’ my regrets.  They’ve dug around that grey matter, white matter, whatever matter, an’ it’s turnin’ to mush.

I’m terrified, Chief.  I ain’t gunna wake up the same man, Chief.  I don’t wanna forget ya.  Chief, I don’t wanna forget it all – even the bad.  That weight’s become ‘part of me.  That’s my burden to bear.  I deserve it.  After lyin’ an’ stealin’ … I deserve that sentence.  ‘Cause a penance I gotta pay without even knowin’ about it?  Lyin’ there in some hospital bed, droolin’ out my goddamn mouth?  Lookin’ far away, but at nothin’?  That just ain’t fair. That ain’t fair to the skeletons.  There ain’t no justice in that.

Or maybe that IS justice.  Ol’ McMurphy the zombie – struck down by the matriarchy, by the Combine.  McMurphy, once the man whose words riled up the ward, now silent.  McMurphy the droolin’ Chronic.  McMurphy a prisoner here forever.  McMurphy, damn near nailed to the ward, pissin’ himself just like that man up on Disturbed.  Shoot, maybe this _does_ fit the crime, an’ that scares me.

Chief, I put on a grin for the fellas, but I ain’t gunna be the same.  I’m terrified, Chief.  I don’t wanna wake up.  I wanna stay in this fog, Chief.  Don’t let me drown, Chief.  I finally know what you meant, Chief.  The fog is safe.  You can hide in it.  Help me hide, Chief.  Help me HIDE, goddamnit!  C’mon you big Injun!  Help me HIDE!  You ain’t really deaf, Chief!  I know you can hear me!  Help me goddamn HIDE! 

Fine.  Cheswick?  Don’t let me drown, Cheswick.  I know I got no business askin’ you to save me, but you can’t let them take me.  Not like this.  This ain’t fair to you, ain’t fair to Billy, ain’t fair to no one.  Don’t let them take me.  I ain’t gunna let them scrape me away, scrape me off the bottom of this grey matter pool.  Help me, Cheswick.  Cheswick?

Billy, now Billy, Billy, Billy.  Billy, teach me how to stay asleep.  I’ll do anything.  Gimme your scissors there, Billy boy.  Be a good boy an’ fetch your pal some scissors.  Gimme somethin’ with an edge to take the edge off, hm?  Billy?  You gotta help your friend.  Am I your friend still, Billy?  We were friends once, right?  Once a friend, always a friend?  I know I lied, Billy, I know I goddamn lied, but it was for the best now, wasn’t it?  Billy?  If you help me, I can do you more good than harm.  I can remember you an’ your memory.  I can do it.  I can visit ol’ Candy.  You love Candy now don’t you?  Billy?

Alright, alright.  Harding.  Harding, ol’ reliable, you gotta help me.  Harding, say somethin’.  If you ain’t gunna save me, just say somethin’.  Tell me a story.  Tell me one of them animated tales with those hands of yours.  Gimme a few of your expressions.  Gimme a few of those factoids.  Tell me your tale of the world.  Hell, you can even bitch about Vera.  You can say anything you want.  You just gotta say somethin’, pal. 

Harding, you can’t leave me.  You ain’t like Cheswick or Billy.  You ain’t a real phantom.  An’ you ain’t a real shadow like Chief.  You can’t leave me, Harding.  You don’t get to leave.  None of ya!  _You can’t goddamn leave me like this, fellas!_

I’m neck deep in this grey.  If I have limbs, I can’t see ‘em.  If I have limbs, I can’t feel ‘em.  Can’t even feel Billy’s snakes.  It’s grey an’ fuzzy – like television noise.  Everything’s fuzzy.  There’s a static – a hiss.  Is that the static you hear, Chief?  Is this that hummin’ in the machinery? 

The machinery.  I’m a victim to machinery.  If I wake up, I’ll be a slave to that machinery.  Won’t be able to eat for myself.  Won’t be able to piss for myself.  Be afraid of my goddamn shadow like the rest.  I can’t wake up.  I can’t drown. 

Ok, fellas!  Hah hah, fellas.  Real funny, fellas.  You got me!  You got Randle! You got him on his knees, an’ now you got him neck deep.  Got him beggin’ like a baby!  Hah, hah, hah!  A real belly laugh!  A real gut-buster!  Fellas?  You can come out now, fellas.  You made yer point.  Now I know you can see me.  You can’t just watch.  You can’t just watch an’ do nothing.

This ain’t a point now, is it?  Is this the sentence from the jury?  You fellas were the jury all along now, weren’t ya?  Hah, hah, hah!   Eye for an eye?  Is that how it is?  Billy an’ Cheswick, this your revenge?  This your sentence?  Lettin’ me drown without doin’ a thing?  Watchin’ me suff-o-cate?  Fine.  That’s fine, that’s damn fine.  But I ain’t goin’ without a fight.  I’ll keep howlin’ until I can’t no more.

An’ Chief, you satisfied bein’ silent again?  You an’ Harding satisfied revertin’ back to your old selves again?  Provin’ to me that changin’ you wasn’t anything but temporary?  Fine, fine, fine.  Fine, fine, damn FINE!  Gentlemen, FINE!  Let me drown!  Let me wake up!  I’ll take it!  I’ll grin an’ bear it!  I’m strong enough!  I can do it!  I can!  Where’s my crown of thorns, gentlemen?  Where’s my goddamn crown of thorns?

That grey’s risin’ up.  Up to my chin.  Up to my mouth.  I can’t howl out like the dyin’ wolf I am no more.  I’m silent.  I’m frantic.  I’m tryin’ to bust free.  But like before, I’m just some thinkin’ bein’.  I ain’t got nothin’ holdin’ me here.  Got no limbs, got no spine, got no heart. 

Don’t do this to me!  You can’t do this to me!  I’ve done some bad things in my life, but I damn don’t deserve this!  Ratched?  Where the fuck are you, Ratched?  Where’s that judge?  Where’s that girl?  Where’s any of them?  Nowhere.  Goddamn nowhere.  Cowards! 

Fine.  That’s just damn fine.  Randle Patrick McMurphy.  That’s my name.  I’ll face the truth.  That’s what I promised, right?  I’ll face what’s comin’ to me.  No sense in fightin’ in any longer.  I’ll do it.  If this the last time I remember my name, remember a goddamn thing, so be it.

 

I’m tired.  I’m damn tired of fightin’, gentlemen.  I understand it now.  I understand bumblin’ Bancini now.  I’m tired.  I’m god AWFUL tired.  I ain’t strong enough to fight no more.  Maybe I never was.  It don’t matter now.  All I know, all that matters, is I’m tired.  I’m just waitin’ to die.  I’m tired.

Sinkin’ further into that grey… now that seems nice.  Closin’ my eyes… now that seems nice.

 

 

 

Yeah.  That seems nice.


	10. last thoughts before the end

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt: McMurphy, preferably solo with introspection & little joy… is literally the best prompt I could have ever received. This is something I’ve always wanted to write, but never had the chance.
> 
> The result: Bromden’s POV is painful thru the last 30 or so pages. What if we had Mack’s?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I’m doing THAT to you. I’m going to make you relive the ending of the novel from another POV. I’m doing it to you. It’s happening. 
> 
> I’m also taking huge artistic liberties here.

Blurs.  Don’t know how long it’s been.  Blurs.  A bed.  A window.  Blurs.

I’m tired.  Boy, I’m tired.  It’s dark now.  Rest.  Rustlin’.  Open eyes.

Blurs.  Someone approachin’.  Big blur.  Drool drippin’ down.  I’m tired.

Moon.  Moon light.  Big black blur blocks moon.  I’m tired. 

Big blur movin’ toward me.  Moon light shinin’.  Pretty.  Echoin’.

 

_Don’t you forget now, McMurphy._

Whose voice is that?  Moon light.  Moon light talkin’.

_You damn did this to yourself._

Blur on top.  I’m tired.

_So when that fog rolls in,_

Can’t breathe.  Weight on face.  Weight on chest.

_When that panic sinks in,_

Blur pressin’ down.  Moon mockin’.

_Save your prayers, your pity, an’ your lies._

Off.  Get him off.

_‘Cause you ain’t foolin’ nobody no more._

 

Thrash thrash thrash.  Arms heavy.  I’m tired.

_They don’t wanna hear it,_

Kick kick kick.   Legs heavy.  I’m tired.

_‘Cause they already heard it._

Shake him off.

_They damn heard it all._

 

Shake.  Him.  Off.

_You can beg all you want,_

Buck buck buck.

_But you can’t escape it._

Thrash kick thrash kick.

_It’s inevitable, McMurphy._

 

I’m tired.

_You’re gunna lose everything,_

Thrash.  I’m tired.

_Without even changin’ a thing._

Kick.  I’m tired.

_She’s got all the power._

Thrash.  Thrash.  I’m tired.

_You weren’t strong enough._

Thrash. 

 

_You just weren’t strong enough._

I’m tired.

_You’re not strong enough._

Moon, I’m tired.

 

_Just let go._

I’m tired.

_Let go._

Shudder.

 

 

 

**_Let go._ **


End file.
